Love, Betrayal and Redemption
Calista âCCâ Collins is used to being the talk of the town. With her scandalous past sheâs learnt the hard way that a woman needs to be strong to get what she wants in a manâs world. And what she wants is the infamous Captain Beauford Tollierâroguish son of an earl, notorious blockade-runner and all-round knave of the seas.
However, Captain Beau is not one to be cajoledâhe is done with the dangerous sea life and ready to follow the life of the straight and narrow. But with many powerful forces circling around him, Beau doesnât stand a chanceâ¦
VICTORIA HANLEN
When Victoria won her first writing honor at age ten, a D.A.R. award for Excellence in History, it never occurred to her sheâd grow up to write historical romance. She went on to tread the boards of stage and professional opera. There she absorbed the basics of story telling and learned to inhabit characters while costumed in wigs, hats and flowing gowns. Now as an author, instead of singing in the shower she takes notes, her characters inhabit her, and they get to wear the great clothes. Victoria lives in rural New England with her husband and a host of wildlife. She loves to hear from her readers. For more, please visit her at victoriahanlen.com
Writing this book has been an adventure and a labor of love, and I have many people to thank. Immense gratitude goes to my fabulous editor, Victoria Oundjian, for her patient guidance and for taking a chance on a new author. I very much appreciate the talented Carina UK team for their brilliant work in launching C.C.âs and Beauâs story out into the world.
To my awesome critiquers Ann Clement, Julia Gabriel, Anna James, Jael Wye, and Jessica Trappâthanks for the honesty, laughter and enthusiasm. Itâs meant the world to me. Thanks also to Ann Messecar, Bob Bonitz, and Jamie Beck, your input was invaluable. And a big thank you goes out to the Connecticut Romance Writers for your encouragement, camaraderie and commitment to seeing us all in print.
I enjoyed talking with the historians at Fort Anderson, Fort Fisher and the Wilmington, North Carolina Railroad Museum. Thank you for your time and generosity in pointing me to such great research resources and acquainting me with a myriad of Civil War details. Any mistakes are on me.
To my family, the loves of my life, you are my moorings and inspiration.
And lastly, thank you dear reader for choosing to spend a few hours getting to know C.C. and Beau. I hope theyâve managed to entertain you with their misbehaving.
To my wonderful, supportive husband who has accompanied me on this journey, patiently seeing to my computer problems and traveling with me to do research in the U.S., the Bahamas and the U.K. You are my hero.
Chapter 1
London, England, 1864
Captain Beauford Tollier knew the glue-like qualities of trouble. The stuff collected on him like burrs on wool socks. Over the years heâd devised a somewhat reliable ruleâtrouble avoided was trouble contained.
Hence, when the first two letters arrived, he prudently tossed them into the fire. With the third, however, he let the note linger in his fingers a moment too long. Long enough for the vanilla and honeysuckle perfume to seep into his senses. Long enough for him to notice the elegant, swirling penmanship. And long enough to read the large purple letters emblazoned across the back:
âPROMISING THE HIGHEST REWARDS AND BENEFITS.â
Trouble.
Yet here he stood at the designated fountain in Londonâs Cremorne Pleasure Gardens. In front of him, horns trumpeted a polka in the tall Chinese bandstand. Below, hundreds of colorful lamps shimmered over the dance platform where seemingly half of London bobbed and weaved.
Beau leaned against a flagpole and opened his pocket watchâeleven p.m.âthe appointed time. Where was the mysterious letter writer signed only as C.C.?
Bells suddenly jangled in a nearby arcade. Tension riveted his spine. Spies often set traps with enticing words. But the letterâs mystery and its authorâs persistence had tweaked his infernal curiosity.
Tapping his foot, he peered about the swarms of festive patrons milling around him. He shouldnât be here. His return to England was to be a new start. Heâd made a vowâif he survived the Yankee prison he would reunite with his brothers and change his life. Still, anticipation buzzed through his veins.
He flicked open his program, scanned it and stuffed it into his trouser pocket. Families still left at dusk. Now only roistering men and women remained. Save for a novel act or two, a dozen years hadnât altered the variety of amusements and death-defying feats. Hot air balloons, operettas, circuses and tightrope walkers still entertained. He yawnedâchildâs play, really. Little could rival the excitement of blockade-running.